by Tom Grieves
Helen was clever. She’d have made sure that all mail would be forwarded to her chambers and they would use an automatic post office service to be certain that any other correspondence would be mopped up. There was no way he could find the missing witness that way. But such a service does not cope well with misspelled names and similar anomalies. And that, Sam knew, would give him his chance. But just as he reached for the file, excited by the possibilities, there was a knock on the door and he saw Zoe standing on the other side. His heart sank, but then he noted how pale she looked and he waved her in.
*
The trouble had started the moment Zoe reached the station the next morning. As she approached the back door, she caught a glimpse of two young PCs heading out on foot patrol, and the look from one of them – that shifty, knowing glance – told her all she needed to know. Sure enough, when she entered the locker room, the place fell silent. She got changed as though she hadn’t noticed a thing. Only a few moments later Malcolm appeared at the door, clearly tipped off as to her arrival.
‘Morning, Zo-Zo,’ he said.
‘Hi, Sarge,’ she replied with matching jollity, but she wasn’t quite confident enough to meet his eye.
He sat down next to her and she was drowning in his heavy aftershave. His thick hand patted her thigh as she pulled on her top.
‘Quite a night, eh?’ he said.
‘Yes it was.’ She was standing now, shutting the locker door, getting ready to get the hell out of there. When she turned she realised that all the guys were facing her. She was alone in a room with seven men.
‘What I’ve always liked about you,’ Malcolm said, ‘is that you’re a team player. Remember how I’ve always said that? It’s what sets us apart from the mongrels out there. We work for each other, watch your mate’s back, you know.’
‘I know.’
‘When you buggered off over to CID, some of the guys they were saying stuff about you, honey. Jumped up little something or other, I can’t remember the words. Thought you were acting above your station, anyhow. But I saw them right. I’ve always known you’re a good ’un.’
‘Thanks, Sarge.’
‘Do I need to go on? It’s getting a bit stupid now, isn’t it?’
There was no air in the room.
‘How is he?’ she finally asked. She wanted to give in but she could still see Eli’s gasping face on the pavement. She imagined that Malcolm’s hand might still have flecks of blood on it.
‘He’s gonna be fine. More than he deserves.’
There was a muttering of approval from the other men in the room.
‘He’ll say nothing,’ the Sergeant continued. ‘Come on, Zoe, he knows how it all works. He tagged a cop car. He smashed that poor little girl’s house to pieces. He’s scum. He got caught. He’ll say he can’t remember and we all carry on.’
‘I suppose I was just being silly,’ she said, a little bashfully.
‘There you go.’
‘Wondering how it would look if I backed up your version of events only to find him saying something else. Like that you went for him and beat him and beat him and beat him.’ Her tone was sharp now, but she couldn’t stop herself.
‘And if he did? His word against mine.’
‘His word and his wounds.’
Everyone in the room would know she was right. There was no way that a beating like that could ever be claimed as self-defence.
‘We’re talking about Eli, here. Remember him? Remember the things he’s done, Zoe?’
‘Yes, Sarge.’
‘It might get messy. Fair call, you’re right, it might get a little sweaty. But my boy Gareth’s already writing up a statement that backs me up. And when you do too, well, what can they say? They might not like it and some people might wave their hands in the air, but that’s all they can do. You know how it works.’
He was probably right. With no evidence and with coordinated testimony from the police, something like this would eventually die. The local community would be up in arms, and relations between them and the cops would sink even lower, but Malcolm, most likely, would get away with it.
‘It’s not like you’re exactly whiter than white yourself, is it, love?’
She had to get out of there. But his hand was on her shoulder now.
‘See, boys? She’s a good girl. She wouldn’t do anything to harm one of us.’
She hadn’t done anything to warrant this comment and they all knew it. The men carried on staring silently at her. She’d done the same to others over the years, but the familiarity of it all didn’t lessen its impact.
‘Time I got upstairs, Sarge,’ she said as lightly as she could, and tapped her watch.
‘Sure, honey, sure,’ Malcolm replied. ‘You’ve got to get out there, serve and protect. That’s what we do.’
But his hand was still pressing down on her shoulder. He was so tough and thick. She imagined trying to fight him and could only see her puny fists bouncing uselessly off his body.
‘You get yourself upstairs, sweetheart. But we’ll need your report in today. They don’t like it if paperwork takes too long, do they?’
His lifted his hand and she was free to go. She walked towards the door, but noticed that a cop stood in front of it, barring her way.
‘Shift it,’ she said, but he didn’t move.
For a moment she thought it would kick off right then and there. She imagined an arm around her neck, pulling her back, and for these unsubtle innuendoes to turn into direct threats. She stood there and waited. But then the cop stood aside. Malcolm must have nodded to him behind her. She walked past, out into the corridor, which was busy as usual, unaffected by the sweaty antics of the locker room.
Zoe didn’t run but she certainly walked fast. She got up to CID and, to her great relief, saw that Sam was in. She barged into his office and crashed into a chair. When she looked at him she got the sense that he was disappointed to see her.
‘Hi,’ he said.
‘You heard about last night?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve been a bit wrapped up with things. What’s up?’
‘Really? You’ve …? Really?’
He was thrown by this. He shrugged at her – so tell me.
‘Malcolm went mental.’
‘Sergeant Cartmell,’ he corrected.
‘Yes, Sergeant Cartmell, sorry. The fine and upstanding Sergeant went and kicked a boy into a coma last night. And I was the lucky one to see it happen.’
‘Shit,’ Sam replied, rubbing his eyes. He looked exhausted. ‘What are you doing about it?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know.’ There was a slight wobble in her voice as she said it, a release that she hadn’t been able to allow herself until now.
‘How bad was it?’
‘It was disgusting, boss.’
He nodded, but didn’t speak for a while. Finally: ‘You okay?’
‘I will be,’ she said, trying to sound strong. It was a job requirement, after all.
‘They want you to make up a report, I take it?’
She nodded and listened as he gave her the stock advice: do nothing, weigh it all up, let them think you’re doing what they want, even tell them you have if they push. It wasn’t the advice she was hoping for.
‘Will you talk to him?’ she finally asked.
‘Okay,’ he said, and his head dropped back to his paperwork. The speed with which he seemed to dismiss this irritated her. She still felt a little juddery from the locker room and didn’t want to be shoved back out onto normal duties so soon.
‘It might need more than a matey chat,’ she added.
‘It’ll be fine.’
He couldn’t know this, not for sure, and as she watched him run his pen under a line in a report, she felt increasingly angry.
‘Well, thanks, then,’ she said.
‘Yeah,’ he replied, not looking up. She stood and walked out, back into the goldfish bowl.
Zoe flopped into her chair and checked her computer.
There were various work-related chores, nothing urgent – mainly HR and new directives. But then two messages popped up that made her lean closer to the monitor. The first was from an anonymous email address with the subject ‘DO THE RIGHT THING’ and no content. She knew it would be from one of Malcolm’s minions and she knew that there would be more soon. The second was from ‘Seymour, Helen’.
She glanced around before opening it.
‘Hi Zoe. Do you have a chance to meet? I can come to you if easier. Best, H.’
An email. Not a secretive phone call but an easily copied and forwarded piece of correspondence. It was almost brazen. At the bottom of the email were contact phone numbers, including a mobile. She slipped out into the stairwell before she dialled the number.
Helen picked up after a single ring.
‘Zoe, hi!’ she said, almost as though they were buddies.
‘Yeah. So you wanted to meet?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s easier to tell you in person.’
Zoe bit her lip. She didn’t like this. ‘Okay,’ she said.
‘Thank you. I assume you won’t want to be seen by your colleagues.’
‘Damn straight.’
‘How about that cafe on Lyall Street?’
‘Fine. When?’
‘Now?’
Zoe didn’t want to seem too keen. In fact, she was extremely wary of meeting this woman at all, but she was also keen to get out of the station. She hung up before Helen could confirm anything more – her rather petulant attempt at control – and continued down the stairs. As she headed towards the exit she saw Gareth, standing by the door, watching her.
‘You alright?’ he asked, his voice flat.
‘Morning, Gareth,’ she replied brightly.
‘You done your report on last night?’
‘Who are you? My mum?’
‘Done mine,’ he replied and ran a hand over his hair, flattening it. ‘Done it good and proper.’
‘Well done you, gold star,’ she said.
‘Funny bitch, ain’t you?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I said you’re funny. Well, always trying to be funny. Must be hard work, all the effort you put in.’
‘It’s easier than trying to climb up Sergeant Cartmell’s arse all day. I’m amazed there’s any room, with you all fighting to get in there.’
Gareth didn’t have a ready reply to this so he just scowled. She looked at him for a moment. She remembered when he first joined, how eager and fresh-faced he was. He had shaken her hand earnestly and paid attention to everything she said. But now, a year in, he was snide and cold-faced; another faceless uniform, thinking and acting as he was told to do.
She pushed past him. After the claustrophobia of the station’s corridors, the city’s dusty, polluted air outside seemed wonderfully fresh and clean.
*
Back in his office, now finally free to get back onto the case, Sam was pleased to see Zoe head off. He noted that her exit was quiet, as though she was hiding something, but he put this down to the trouble she was having with Malcolm. He must talk to the crusty old bugger, he reminded himself. He didn’t like the idea of Zoe being scared, especially not in here, a police station.
But soon he was driving again, and the only thing in his mind was a missing witness, Helen Seymour and poor little Lily Downing.
FORTY-ONE
Helen was sitting at a table at the back of the cafe halfway through a bacon sandwich when Zoe arrived. It was a tawdry place, catering for those who had no interest in fancy delicatessens and decaf macchiatos. Helen had to wipe some of the ketchup off her lips and stood hurriedly, grabbing Zoe into a hug.
‘Thanks for coming, really. Bacon sarnie? Lizzie does the best in town.’
Lizzie, a tall, sturdy woman, winked at her, and Zoe felt outnumbered by her presence and the unexpected hug. She looked around – an old couple were perusing newspapers in the other corner, but otherwise the place was quiet. It made a surprisingly good meeting place. She ordered a coffee and sat down as Helen cleared papers away off the table, stuffing them unceremoniously into her bag.
Once again, her clothes were simple and understated. It was only by the cut that Zoe could tell they weren’t just high-street brands. It was as though everything Helen did was to avoid being noticed.
Lizzie returned moments later with two coffees that she dumped onto the table. She left an arm draped on Helen’s shoulder for a moment, before moving on. Helen sipped at hers and then sat back. Zoe waited, well aware of the game being played. She could wait as long as it took.
‘I have a small problem with your boss,’ Helen said eventually.
‘Which one?’
‘Your DI. Sam Taylor.’
‘So talk to him.’
Helen frowned in a way that made it clear she would if she could. She fiddled with her coffee cup for a moment.
‘He came at me, last night, when I was getting into my car.’
‘What does that mean? Came at you?’
‘I was going to my car, across from the station after some business – he hasn’t mentioned this to you?’
‘I haven’t seen him this morning,’ Zoe lied.
‘Well, I was about to unlock the door and I looked round, you know, as you do to make sure you’re safe, and there he was. He’d followed me. It scared me, Zoe.’
Zoe had seen Sam scare plenty of people. But he did it with lowlife dealers, with thugs and scrotes. Not with women, and never with someone like Helen. She didn’t know what to think.
‘What do you want me to do about it?’ she said.
‘I’d like you to calm him down.’
‘He seems fine to me.’
‘No, Zoe, he’s far from fine.’
‘Look, you put his back up – steamrolling over his case like that – what do you expect?’
‘So this is typical behaviour then, is it? He’s “got the hump” and it’ll all calm down?’
‘Sure.’
Helen shook her head, irritated at Zoe’s stonewalling.
‘You’re the smartest person in that whole department. Don’t shut down on me. I know he’s your boss and your friend, but don’t block me just because of some misplaced ideas about loyalty.’
‘Excuse me? I shouldn’t even bloody be here.’
‘What has he told you about me?’ Helen asked, and Zoe was surprised by the abrupt change of direction.
‘Fuck off.’ It was a stock reply in times of trouble, and it suited her well enough now.
Helen sighed. ‘Okay. Stop. Rewind. Let’s start this again. I’m sorry, I’ve come at this the wrong way, but please, don’t think of me as some sort of adversary.’
‘You’re a sodding defence barrister!’
‘We’re both part of the same system, serving the law. You know that.’
‘You’re being ridiculous.’
‘No, you’ve just spent too long with your macho buddies.’
Zoe thought of Gareth and his stupid sneer. It shut her up.
‘You’re not one of them, Zoe,’ Helen said more quietly. ‘I think Sam’s a good guy and a good cop, but I think he’s too desperate to get a result on the case. I would be too. A boy’s dead and a girl is missing. But he seems more driven than seems reasonable.’
This was a waste of time. Zoe downed her coffee and prepared to leave, pulling at her coat from the back of her chair.
‘He was shaking with rage, Zoe. I thought he was going to explode.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘So he’s not been acting oddly with you then?’
‘No.’
But he had. He’d been secretive and angry for months now. Not like that, though, not violent or dangerous. But she could imagine it, even if she’d never seen it. He’d had his moments in the past, before Andrea died, when he was terrifying.
‘Why would he be so angry with you then?’ Zoe asked.
Helen raised an eyebrow in r
esponse. ‘You know why.’
‘You’ve been messing with witnesses.’
Zoe saw Helen’s fingers tighten on the gingham table cloth and she felt a sting of irritation and regret – Helen had got her to play her hand.
‘Why do you think that?’ Helen said, and Zoe was pleased to see how uncomfortable she was.
‘No, you don’t get to pump me for information. You know what you’ve done. And if you’ve done wrong, then you deserve to be punished for it.’
‘And if I haven’t?’
‘Then you’re not a concern of ours.’
‘I think I’m a gigantic concern of Sam Taylor’s, even though I haven’t been messing with any witnesses.’
‘I doubt that. And I have to go now.’
‘I fight hard for my clients,’ Helen interrupted, her eyes locked on Zoe, ‘and I do it by the book. But I pay for it. I used to be a lot brasher than I am now. I thought at first that I should do it like the boys – fight and play like them, be loud and unbending. But that didn’t go down so well. Now I’m quieter and they prefer me like that. Quieter, but I tell you, I still fight. And they hate it. They hate a woman like me just because I’m clever and successful and all the other things that women aren’t allowed to be in this enlightened age. So I get my share of enemies. You get yourself into trouble when you speak your mind. Don’t you?’
‘Oh God, are you trying to get me to shit on my boss because of some women’s lib?’
‘I’m not asking you to shit on anyone.’
Zoe pushed the empty cup away from her. Helen stood, straightening the sleeves of her jacket and throwing her bag over her shoulder. She looked down at Zoe. ‘I’ve done my homework on you, Zoe. You’re an exceptional talent. But you’re also too loyal to Sam. And it could get you hurt. I just wanted to warn you.’
‘I don’t believe a word you’ve said,’ Zoe snapped. Helen didn’t respond to this. This only annoyed Zoe more, so she continued. ‘And the fact that you talk about loyalty like it’s some sort of optional extra only makes me think less of you.’